


Scenes From A Malfoy-Potter Pregnancy

by Ladderofyears



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Baby Shower- Sort Of, Graphic Depiction of Labour, Lactation Kink, M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Male Lactation, Mpreg, Nipple Licking, Pre-birth Lactation, Pregnancy Scans, Pregnancy Tests, So Married, Water Breaking, Water birth, contractions, gentle oral sex, so much love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 04:26:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19899808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: As the wave of a second contraction started to radiate a course through his belly, Draco focussed his mind on a single thought:family. Harry and Emmeline were his family, and Draco already knew he would do absolutely anything for them. Even if his labour tore him into a thousand pieces, that wouldn’t matter one jolt. All that mattered now was bringing their daughter home.All that mattered now was Emmeline. Draco needed her to be as safe, as happy and as loved within the confines of his embrace as she was under his beating heart.When Draco becomes pregnant with Harry's daughter it is the most wonderful, exhilarating and terrifying adventure of his life.





	Scenes From A Malfoy-Potter Pregnancy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PollyWeasley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PollyWeasley/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to my simply brilliant best-friend PollyWeasley. If I could have any wish in the world I'd cross the ocean to spend tomorrow with you, but I'm afraid my fic will have to suffice.
> 
> The name Emmeline has lots of different pronunciations but in this story Harry and Draco pronounce it as _Emme-leen_.

It was the early hours of the morning when Draco felt his first true contraction. 

It was a pressure that felt only light to begin with, but grew stronger and more intense as the seconds passed by. Starting in the bottom of his belly, the pain moved up to clasp the base of his spine, and it held a frightening grip on him for the count of twenty. Draco screwed his eyes shut, holding on tight to the light summer quilt, flinching and startled by the suddenness of the sensation. 

As soon as the contraction abated, it was like it had never been. Draco pressed his hand against the dome of his bump, feeling the wriggle of their daughter push back against his fingertips. 

It was two day after her official due date, and Draco felt utterly ready to hold Emmeline in his arms, kiss her sweet skin and examine the tiny legs and feet that had given his ribs so much trouble for the previous few months. Beside him Harry was still fast asleep, blissfully unaware that their baby had decided to make her entrance into the world, and Draco decided it was probably a good idea to let his husband rest for long as possible. 

While it would seem that Merlin had fated that this warm July day was to be Emmeline’s birthday, Draco felt terribly intimidated by the labour that he knew was his days work. He remembered once again at what his mother had told him, that “every agonising moment, every second of powerlessness is _worth_ the joy of meeting on your baby. It’s the greatest happiness of your life.” 

As he lay back on the bed, Draco tried to will his limbs not to shake and his mind to quieten its anxious spiral of thoughts. Emmeline was full term, strong and ready to be born, their daughter that was a piece of Harry and he both. She was both a gift and a miracle, and Draco knew that his labour was simply the final step on their long journey to become fathers. 

As the wave of a second contraction started to radiate a course through his belly, Draco focussed his mind on a single thought: _family_. Harry and Emmeline were his family, and Draco already knew he would do absolutely anything for them. Even if his labour tore him into a thousand pieces, that wouldn’t matter one jolt. All that mattered now was bringing their daughter home. 

All that mattered now was Emmeline. Draco needed her to be as safe, as happy and as loved within the confines of his embrace as she was under his beating heart. 

~@~

Of course, the process of actually having to _give birth_ to their daughter had seemed like a very distant problem on that day that Draco discovered they were pregnant. 

That day, carved into Draco’s memory as one of the most momentous of his life, had started like any other. 

It had been mid-December, and Harry and he had shared a Saturday morning lay-in. Unfortunately, that had been followed by the quick dash to the loo that had become a regrettably familiar part of Draco’s morning routine. After forcefully expelling their previous nights dinner, Draco had sheepishly returned to bed, desperately hoping for ten minutes more shut-eye. 

He was thwarted in his aim by the Auror-keen stare of his husband, however. Harry was sat up in bed, eyebrows knitted together with consternation. That Potter had decided to analyse Draco’s every waking moment for pregnancy symptoms was, quite frankly, starting to get a little aggravating. Especially since there was simply _no way_ it could be morning sickness as he’d reminded Harry after his third bout of vomiting. 

It was a reaction to the strong fertility potions that he was being dosed with, _nothing more_. 

“None of your enthusiastic Potter stupidity _please_ ,” Draco had shrieked when Harry had lent over, him, ludicrously moony-eyed and tried to touch his tummy. Draco had given Harry a sharp poke with his elbow for that heinous offence, and fired his finest scowl in Potter’s direction. 

“Healer Prinn _told_ you to manage your expectations, Harry! Nobody gets pregnant on their first round of potions. Remember what she said? The body has to acclimatise. My uterus needs to actually form properly and ripen enough to conceive. It’s not even a hundred percent it’ll even work even then.”

“Oh, I think it’ll work,” Harry had answered, giving Draco a ridiculously warm gaze. “You’ve never failed at anything before in your life, and Prinn _did_ say you were in perfect health. Maybe our baby is already in there, growing away.” Harry had given Draco the soppiest of smiles, gesturing in the general direction of Draco’s tidy stomach. 

Draco didn’t condescend to reply to his husband’s abject ridiculousness, and simply rolled his eyes, slid down the bed and pretended to sleep. 

Harry took the hint, and shut up about the subject which pleased Draco no end. Of course, the idea that their baby might actually be growing, a tiny seed deep inside his womb wormed away at the edges of Draco’s consciousness for the rest of the morning. It made his heart beat a little faster in excitement, and his temper very short. 

Harry and he had gone on their weekly shop to Tescos later that morning, an experience which had only added to Draco’s frazzled nerves. It was mid-December, and the shop was overflowing with muggle Christmas shoppers and chaotic busyness. Draco had thrown a couple of pregnancy tests into the basket alongside his favourite conditioner. 

“I’m buying those tests _just_ to shut you up,” Draco had informed Harry in a bored tone, frowning at the pathetic range of cakes on offer. The smell of them was making Draco queasy which must, he decided, be another side effect of those bloody potions. “I’m intending to get well and truly blotto on the Elf-wine on Christmas Day. It’s the only way I can _bear_ to get through dinner with Father. I’m not pregnant yet, love. Promise.” 

Despite his assurance Draco hadn’t been able to stop thinking about those tests throughout the rest of their shopping trip. They’d walked home together; their groceries _Reducio’d_ and hidden in Harry’s pocket and their conversation throughout had been easy and superficial. 

~@~

Draco had taken the tests with a trembling hand, watching as second pink line darkened to a maroon and sealed his fate forever. 

Crouching down beside the bath, Draco turned the test over and over in his hand, urgently trying to arrange his thoughts into sentences that made even the most simple sense. _This was real_ , he told himself, checking and rechecking the result. 

_This was real_. Draco could feel the wide smile on his face, and he tried to call out to Harry but only managed a small squeak. _This was real_ , and deep inside him their _baby_ was growing, their tiny, infinitesimal heart beating even faster than Draco’s own. 

He fiddled open a couple of buttons on his thick linen shirt, fingers useless and clumsy with surprise and lay a palm over his flat tummy. “Hello,” Draco had whispered to his baby. “I’m going be your daddy. I might not be brilliant, but I'm really going to do my best. I… I already love you more than you know. But be gentle darling. This is all very new to me too.”

Harry had burst through the door then, quite unable to wait a further second longer. They had sobbed, the pair of them, sat there together wrapped in each other’s arms on their bathroom floor. Harry had kissed Draco; heated sensuous kisses over his husband’s cheeks and jaw, and Draco had felt the dampness that Harry’s tears left upon his skin. 

“A baby,” Harry has said, awed and laughing. “You’ll be so brilliant at this baby-growing thing. Like I told you earlier, you never fail at anything, love.”

Draco smiled, knitting his fingers into Harry’s and pulling them back through his gaping shirt. Together they’d pressed their hands over Draco’s belly and imagined the person who grew within. “You’re going to be the brilliant one, Potter.” Draco had said. “You’re going to be their _dad_.” 

~@~

Christmas and New Year passed Draco by in a blur. 

Happily, his morning sickness abated by his twelfth week and by the end of January he was feeling positively cheerful about the whole experience. Healer Prinn had been ecstatic that Draco had gotten pregnant so quickly, and had declared him a model candidate to carry the baby. If everything happened according to schedule baby would make their appearance in mid-July. “That’s great news,” Prinn had said. “Lots of lovely light, warm evenings for you both to really get to to know your little one.”

“You look radiant,” Harry informed Draco two days later. They were getting ready for Pansy’s house-warming party, and were already running late. “Glossy hair. Bright eyes. Absolutely _stunning_.” Harry had leaned over and pressed a kiss over Draco’s hair. “Um-mm. Personally, I wouldn’t be averse to just staying home tonight.” 

“Merlin, I _wish_. But I think Pans might be a touch pissed off if we didn’t manage it,” Draco replied, pulling on his trousers. He let them sit open on his hips while he buttoned up his shirt. “She’s a crafty-bloody-minx, and I’ve never been able to keep a secret from her since I was eight years old. She’s already suspicious, Potter.”

“But you don’t need to keep this from her love. We’ve passed the most critical time.” Harry said, focussing on knotting his tie. “But if you don’t want to tell everyone at once that’s fine too. Totally your decision.” 

“I suppose so. I feel like once we tell everyone the phoenix has flown the nest. There’s no going back after that.” Draco tucked in the last of his shirt and buttoned up his trousers. There was considerably less wiggle room than there had been a month previously. 

Draco fiddled with the waistband, trying to find a less ill-fitting position, but it was to no avail. They were skin-tight. “Scratch that. It looks like there’s already no going back. My largest pair of trousers don’t fit me. Sodding _hell_. Do I look pregnant?”

Draco could see Harry looking up and down at his reflection. There’d definitely been a new roundness to his tummy in the last week or so, and his body had felt less angular but visibly pregnant? Draco had been sure he’d get more time than this but the evidence in his mirror really couldn't be denied. There was a noticeable curve to his middle, and the lowest couple of buttons were straining ever so slightly. It would hardly have been perceptible except that Draco’s figure had always been on the spindly side. There was an unquestionably new little someone hiding beneath that grey silk shirt, and they were visible for all to see. 

“You don’t look pregnant. You _are_ pregnant,” Harry smiled, his eyes soft as he took in the miniscule baby bump. “That’s one of the hazards of having been such a skinny arse your entire life Malfoy. Nowhere for you to hide that lovely new belly.”

Draco pulled a miffed face at his reflection, and traced a finger over the peak of his tummy, just below his belly-button. After Harry’s words there was definitely no unseeing his newfound figure. “I suppose so. Well, these were the biggest trousers I own so they’ll just have to do. The jig’s up Potter. Won’t be fooling Pansy in these.” Draco cast a tailoring spell over the waist of his trousers, extending them by a couple of inches. “Can’t bear to have them digging into me.”

“And you’re only going to get bigger, love,” Harry replied, stepping forward and snaking two loose hands around Draco’s waist. Their lips met for a warm, familiar kiss, that made the blood surge through Draco’s body, and his pregnant cheeks flush a very unMalfoyish shade of pink. As they kissed, the rest of the world seemed to fade into insignificance. All that was of consequence was Harry, and the little person who was starting to make themselves known.

“With every day that passes you’re going to grow. I hadn’t noticed anything before tonight Draco, and now I can’t stop staring. It’s beautiful. _You’re_ beautiful. You’re really having a baby.”

“Your baby,” Draco clarified. “ _Our_ baby. And we need to get our proverbial broomsticks into gear Harry. We were already late ten minutes ago.” Draco smirked and purposely tapped his tummy. “And tonight don’t you dare expect me to field every single bloody question. This one here is fifty percent Potter.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it Draco,” Harry said softly. 

~@~

“Congratulations gentlemen,” Healer Prinn had said kindly, “You’re expecting a daughter.”

With a flick of her wand, Prinn turned the small, but unmistakeable image of their baby over so that Draco and Harry could see more clearly. Her clever sonogram-spell had created a full-sized magical representation of their baby, and she hovered over the rise of Draco’s round tummy. 

Draco hadn’t felt her move yet, but as he stared reverently at their tiny little girl she gave him an unmistakable little wave. Harry must have seen it too, because Draco heard his sharp intake of breath beside him, and the clutch of his hands tight around his own. 

“Merlin, she’s so tiny. That’s our baby, Draco. Our baby _girl_.”

Prinn let them observe their baby in awestruck silent for a further few moment while she busied herself taking measurements and filling out a sheaf of parchment notes. As Draco looked on, the small floating girl yawned, and rolled over. 

Draco laughed through his happy tears. “She’s obviously yours, Potter. Another lazy creature who’ll be mortally offended by the idea of getting up before noon.” 

Harry leant over and kissed Draco’s forehead. “You stand need to talk, Malfoy. You spend half your life asleep right now. You went to bed at eight last night.”

“I’m _allowed_ ,” Draco replied, looking on with wonder as Harry pushed gently at the side of his belly, and their baby spread her arms widely in response. “ _Preggers_ , in case you’ve forgotten.”

Healer Prinn cleared her throat, smiling at the pair of them. “Your daughter is looking healthy and quite comfortable, gentlemen. The magical centre of her brain is maturing beautifully and she’ll be able to hear sounds from inside your body, Draco. She’s six inches long, and her heart rate is perfect. Ten fingers, and ten toes.”

“So nothing we need to worry about, or change?” Harry asked, watching their Healer as she swished her wand causing the sonogram to disappear. 

“We’re currently at eighteen weeks pregnant, so you’ll need to make sure you’re resting a bit more Draco. Your magical reserves will get depleted much more quickly as she grows bigger. You’ve only got four months left to go as a twosome, so make sure you’re enjoying each others company. You don’t need to feel too much anxiety, Draco. Your pregnancy is progressing well and you’re doing a superb job growing your baby. You’ve only got four months left to go as a twosome, so make sure you’re enjoying each others company before your daughter makes her arrival.” Healer Prinn shook both of their hands, and wrote out a prescription for a potion to aid Draco’s aching back. Their appointment was over very soon after that. 

Draco redressed, pulling up his comfortable elasticated trousers over his substantial bump. He had sworn to Harry that paternity trousers were _never_ going to be a part of his pregnancy wardrobe but he’d discovered everything he owned was far too warm and clinging. They apparated themselves a cafe in Diagon Alley, because Draco was starting too feel a little self conscious about being out amongst the muggles, and ordered tea and cake. 

“Nobody would think twice love,” Harry had declared, mashing the tea-bag into the side of his mug. “They’d only wonder how such a skinny bloke had managed to get such a stubborn belly attached to him, nothing more.”

“This stubborn belly that you’ve described so poetically is your _daughter_ Potter.” Draco frowned, laying a gentle hand on his bump. “ _Oh_.”

“ _Oh?_ ” queried Harry, looking up from buttering his fruit bun. “What do you mean-”

“I felt her _move_. Felt a flutter, inside. She’s really there, Harry. Saying hello to us at last.”

“Course she’s in there, Draco. And now we’ve been introduced, we need to think of a name for her. We can’t go calling her Baby Malfoy-Potter for the next four months.”

Draco was quiet, sipping his tea thoughtfully. Female children in his family were almost unheard of, and he didn’t doubt that Lucius would have some ugly, old-fashioned wizarding name ready to attach to their baby. A name that placed her within a succession of Malfoy aristocrats. A name that told her exactly what was expected of her; a less than subtle reminder her never to deviate from her path. That wasn’t at all what Draco wanted for the tiny little creature he’d already fallen so deeply in love with. 

“Let’s give her a name that belongs to her. Not a _constellation_ , or a bloody _flower_.” Draco placed his cup down on the table, warming to his idea. “Not some long dead idol that she’ll never live up to, or a relation that she might not even like. Her _own_ name.”

Harry nodded, swallowing a bite of his fruit bun. “Evie,” he suggested. “Amelia. Freya?”

Draco wrinkled his nose. Those names all sounded quite exotic and alien to him. “Florence. Isabelle? No. I don’t think so. I’m not sure.”

“Esme,” Harry counted, pouring out a second cup of tea. “Never met an Esme.”

“No. That’s a shortened version of Esmeralda anyway. What about Imogen? Or Emmeline?”

“Emmeline. That’s pretty.” Harry leaned back in his chair. “I could live with that. _Emmeline Malfoy-Potter_. That actually really helps me feel like she’s her own person. Emmeline. Our daughter.”

Draco laughed. Emmeline was as pleased with her new name as Harry seemed to be, and she gave another wiggle of approval inside his tummy. He slid his hands down to rest on the swell of his belly. “It might just be our name, Potter. We’ve still got plenty of time to decide, though. She might arrive, and look like a ruddy _Patricia_ for all I know.”

But Draco had known soon enough that Emmeline Malfoy-Potter was destined to be the name of their first child. 

They’d lain together in a cool shallow bath the following day, with Draco’s back pressed tightly against his husband’s chest. Harry had made up some nonsensical rhyme that described Emmeline as his _May Queen_ wearing _Slytherin Green_ , and their daughter had given Draco an infinitesimal kick each time Harry had murmured her poem. Emmeline, who was part-Harry, and part-himself and yet all her own person. 

Emmeline, who grew stronger with every day that passed. 

~@~

Draco had decided, somewhat unconventionally, to celebrate his twenty-fifth birthday at home. Harry and he had chosen to have their friends over for a low-key afternoon tea rather than meeting them at a restaurant, and if he were being truly honest, Draco couldn’t have been happier with the decision. 

There were myriad reasons for staying in. Firstly, all that dressing-up seemed a little unnecessary when Draco was confined to elasticated trousers, and shirts that were roughly the size of Wiltshire. 

Secondly, muggle restaurants were out of bounds for obvious bump-related reasons and Harry always attracted too much unwanted press attention at wizarding establishments. Draco preferred not to share his current expectant state with every nosy reader of the _Prophet_. 

There were the reasons that Draco had shared with his guests, anyway. The truth was, at thirty-four weeks, Draco was finding some of the symptoms of pregnancy a little embarrassing to deal with. Backache, swollen feet and a leaking chest really weren't the most awesome part of growing a baby, and neither was the waddling gait that Harry had pronounced as _adorable_. 

If birthday celebrations were happening, Draco had told his husband, then they were going to be a private affair. 

Healer Prinn had told him earlier in the week that Emmeline was almost at her birth length, and Draco already knew she was as energetic and busy as as her other daddy. Harry had joked that Emmeline was going to be Seeker for the _Harpies_ or failing that, Minister for Magic, but Draco claimed he truly didn’t mind. All he wanted for his Emmeline was the chance to live her very best life. 

As he lazed on the settee waiting for their guests, Draco idly pressed his forefinger into the side of his wide belly and drew it in a line down his side. Emmeline pushed against his finger, chasing after his hand. Draco knew that it was automatic, an instinctual response, but he adored it anyway. That Emmeline was flourishing, thriving and reacting positively to her world mesmerised Draco endlessly. The twinge and tingle of Emmeline’s own unique magic was more potent with every day that passed, reminding Draco strongly of Harry’s own. It felt strange sometimes to imagine his beloveds magic growing and expanding deep within his belly. 

“So many people already love you, Emmeline Jelly-bean,” he said to his baby. 

Pansy and Theo were the first of their friends to arrive. She pushed a large box into Harry’s arms, as she hung up her coat. “Three-tied ice cream cake. I picked it up from _Fortescues_ on the way over. It’s under a stasis spell so it should be perfect to serve.” She leaned down to press a kiss on to Draco’s forehead and gave him a quick squeeze on his shoulders. 

“Darling,” Pansy said “don’t you _dare_ think even think about standing. You still look disgustingly handsome for a man eating for two. When I had Altair I looked like a bloody hippogriff. It’s so wonderful to see you both.” Pansy perched herself on the edge of the sofa, fishing around in her handbag for a small package which she then _Engorgio’d_ with a swish of her wand. 

“And this is for Emmeline. I know it’s your birthday Draco, not a baby shower, but still. Miffy my Elf helped me a touch, but I promise you, I did most of it-”

“Been staying up _every_ night,” interrupted Theo, laughing. Draco opened the parcel, which was wrapped in in silky green paper, and tied with a purple ribbon. It was an embroidered dragon that pranced around the canvas, with a tiny puff of orange flame occasionally emerging from his nose. Emmeline’s name was sewn in a Gryffindor burgundy along the bottom. Draco thought it would look absolutely marvellous hung in their nursery.

“Theo’s exactly right. I worked my pretty arse off.” Pansy giggled. “Now what do you think?”

“I adore it, you daft creature. Merlin, who’d have imagined that Parkinson of all people could have managed something this skilful? Thank you, sweetheart. I love it.” It was a thoughtful and very kind present, and Draco felt tears pricking his eyes. Those silly, ridiculous hormones, he decided. 

Ron and Hermione arrived five minutes later, baring an Elf-made cheesecake and an illustrated copy of _Beedle the Bard_ that was enchanted to open in exactly the place it had been closed. Ron made the observation that Draco had hardly bothered to rise out of his chair in the seven years they’d been friends, so it was probably better not to break the habit of a lifetime. 

Blaise and Astoria brought a Lemon Meringue that was charmed to be as light and fluffy as air, and a quilt for Emmeline’s cot adorned with snitches that seemed to disappear whenever you spied them. Draco couldn’t decide which of the desserts he fancied the most, so decided to forego the Spaghetti Bolognaise entirely to eat a portion of each, and he shamelessly blamed Emmeline for his choice.

Despite their evening being a supposed birthday party, most of their conversation centred around babies, and what Draco and Harry might expect when their own arrived. Hermione was fascinated by the conversation and Draco thought privately that it surely wouldn’t be long before Weasley was father to a ginger-haired, freckly clan all of his own. Blaise seemed markedly less keen but he shook Draco’s hand warmly, telling him that he couldn't wait to meet their little Slytherin when she finally arrived. 

By the time eleven rolled around, Draco felt knew his newly-round cheeks must be terribly red, and it was getting increasing challenging to stifle his yawns. Even Emmeline was quiet and still, sleeping as she always did late in the evening. Harry and he made sure to thank all of their guests as they flooed home, and Draco stood to give all of his friends a hug, ignoring both the soreness in his back and his hot, aching feet. 

He was sincerely thankful for their company. 

In a world where so many of their contemporaries still held Draco in disdain, believing that he had somehow bewitched their Saviour, their friends were truly the family Harry and he had chosen for themselves. Even so, as soon as the flames had died down Draco let out a relieved sigh. He padded though to their bedroom and lay down, waiting while Harry spelled their plates to wash themselves. Draco stretched, liberally placing cooling and cushioning spells all around his painful back. This fifth of June night was warm, and he _Vanished_ away his shirt and trousers. 

Harry walked in, and he gave Draco an admiring glance. 

“Can’t believe she’s supposed to do most of her growing over the next month,” Harry said, picking up Draco’s feet without being asked and depositing them in his lap. “Emmeline is already such a big part of our lives.” Draco’s hand drifted over his belly, while Harry rubbed his feet. 

His fingertips traced over his small red stretch-marks and his taut, flat belly button. Emmeline’s weight as she slept had pulled his tummy into a lopsided potion, more baby on the left side than on the right. Draco could feel his body getting ready for their baby, and at Harry’s artful touches he felt his chest begin to tingle. His areolas were darkening, and oversensitive; the skin of his filling breasts swollen and warm. Familiar drips of yellow colostrum dropped onto Draco’s bump. It was such a _particular_ feeling; seductive whilst so instinctive and natural. 

“I’m _leaking_ ,” Draco moaned, and Harry moved in, his careful mouth capturing Draco’s engorged nipple between his lips. His husband licked up the spilt milk and left Draco’s sore skin shiny, glorious and sated. 

Harry laughed. “I loved that so much. You’ve turned me into a bloody _milk_ fetishist Malfoy. I’m quite ruined. Now, since it is your birthday and our very last one as a twosome, I would very much like to make love to you. How does that sound?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Draco replied. “I think that might complete a rather perfect birthday.”

~@~

Harry and Draco made the decision to birth Emmeline away from wizarding London. 

Travelling within the muggle world was becoming next to impossible, and Harry wasn’t sure that Diagon Alley and its environs were that safe for Draco. Their love affair and marriage had been tolerated only barely by some elements of magical society and Draco’s pregnancy had brought to the fore the vitriolic headlines and public anger that had followed him since the age of eighteen. A casually thrown hex or spell thrown in anger would be an absolute disaster for Emmeline, so it felt far safer to go to Shell Cottage. 

Draco was thirty-seven weeks when they arrived, gigantic and long past-ready to meet his daughter. He lay down, napping for a couple of hours after they had arrived, but the soft afternoon sun of the early afternoon pulled him from his slumber. Draco had Harry help him tie his shoes so that they could walk slowly along the stony Dorset beach, a glamour hiding Draco’s broad tummy away from the world. 

“It’s still hard to believe that your due date is less than a week,” Harry said, holding Draco’s hand and walking with him across to the edge of the water. “Doesn’t feel like a minute since we were in bloody _Tescos_ and you were buying those tests. We’ve been so lucky, love. A baby on your first ovulation. And we get to meet her soon… I don’t know. I never thought I’d have my own family, a child of my own-”

“There’s nobody else I could have shared this with.” Draco interjected quietly, stopping at the tide to catch his breath. “That’s the _real_ magic, I think. That we could find each other after all the hatred, all the enmity. Share our lives. That I've lucky enough to bear your child.” Draco squeezed Harry’s hand. “I’m ready to meet her though. As ready as I'll ever be.”

“The nursery is painted. Narcissi yellow, but we can change that with the flick of a wand,” Harry listed, with a tilt of his head. “Hermione knitted us the most glorious baby blanket. Healer Prinn will floo in when labour starts. Pansy has brought Emmeline more clothes than even I currently own-”

“That’s _hardly_ an achievement, Harry-”

“-and Charlie sent over that dragon toy from the Horntail reservation. We have nappies, and muslins and her name already reserved for Hogwarts. I’m not sure we’ve got anything left to do.”

“Only the one small matter of the birth, I suppose.” Draco said, straight-faced but dying to laugh. “And I think we might have to head back to the cottage, Potter. Thirty-eight weeks of baby is quite a bit of weight to carry about all afternoon.”

~@~

Shell Cottage was much smaller than anywhere else Draco had ever stayed, and the bed and shower were hardly big enough to accommodate the globe of his belly. 

Luckily extension spells existed for a reason, and Draco was soon easing himself down onto the surprisingly soft bed. Harry had told him to have a lie down while he made an easy Carbonara for tea. Draco looked down at the vast tummy which filled his vision. It rose in a great arc, with his small breasts resting on top. They were so filled with rich, fatty oozing milk that Draco had taken to wearing nursing pads to protect Harry and himself from drowning in the sticky substance. “You’ll need to be making your entrance soon, my beloved. Come out and see your daddies’ faces. I promise you, it’s far more exciting out here.”

“Did she reply?” Harry asked, entering the room with two plates of scrumptiously rich pasta levitating beside him. Potter was the finest cook that Draco had ever met, and it was odds on that he’d end up a very chubby wizard one day. 

“Very wiggly,” Draco replied. “Enjoying the seaside air. As am I”

“Oh yes? Well baby, can you please stay exactly where you are for the next few minutes?” Harry asked, busying himself with his wand and placing their dinner under a stasis spell “I’ve been lusting after your daddy all afternoon. I’d like to give him a rather gorgeous orgasm.”

“Hush,” Draco laughed, his ears tinting a subtle pink. “Not in front of our baby.”

~@~

Harry’s lips dropped down to discover Draco’s nipple, incautiously suckling and tonguing the fervid, puffy nub. 

Draco hissed in pleasure. His nipples had rapidly grown in both size and sensitivity in the last few weeks, and even the slightest touch sent shock waves to his cock that was springing into a very full erection inside his silky boxer-shorts. 

“Don’t stop Potter,” Draco demanded, his voice a gasp. “I’ll come… You’ll make me come.” 

Desperate for friction, Draco tried to flex his hips against his husband, but his bountiful tummy and the weight of their daughter made his efforts ineffectual. He snaked an arm around his bump but he had grown _far_ too big to wank properly and only succeeded in a little futile rubbing. Harry made a hum of acknowledgement, but his mouth never left Draco’s wet, tingling areolae. 

“You maddening bloody arsehole _tease_.” Draco bit down on his own lips as Harry swapped sides, lavishing his nibbles, bites and kisses on the other nipple. It was all utterly overstimulating and Draco’s gravid condition effectively pinning him beneath Harry’s touches; a passive recipient of pure, unadulterated pleasure. 

“Harry,” he moaned, writhing and twisting, letting out needy little whimpers, “Harry, _please_. I’m so close.”

Harry planted a final open-mouthed kiss in Draco’s glistening nipple, and looked up at Harry with soft, adoring eyes. “Don’t worry love,” he assured. “I’ll make it good for you.” Harry moved his attentions further down Harry’s body then, whispering enchantments and murmured words of love against the skin of Draco’s taut belly. He paused momentarily, flicking his tongue against Draco’s navel and tonguing the dark _Linea Nigra_ line that led straight to Draco’s desperate prick. 

Harry helped Draco out of his boxer shorts, which wasn’t the most elegant of activities. Pregnancy hormones had peaked Draco’s need, and his aching member was already leaking pre-come as Harry swallowed him whole, sating Draco’s urgent demand. 

Draco’s disappointment at not being able to view the show behind his belly was made up entirely by Harry’s artful mouth that sucked him deeply, securely and slowly. 

It didn’t take more than a minute of this superb treatment for Draco’s whole body to start trembling. Bone-deep delight coiled in his tummy, and he arched his back, spilling into Harry’s mouth with a sigh. Draco’s whole body felt boneless and fuzzy as Harry climbed up the bed to spoon in behind him. 

“Everything okay with you? Your heart’s racing,” Harry observed in a muffled voice as he nosed the damp skin of Draco’s shoulder and lay a light hand on Draco’s middle. 

“I’m good,” Draco replied, enjoying the press of Harry’s solid chest against his back. “Excellent in fact. I hadn’t realised how much I needed that. Emmeline liked it too… She’s trying to do somersaults in there, although I don’t think it’s getting her very far.” Draco closed his eyes as she kicked him, confirming the truth of his statement. 

The pleasurable aftershocks suddenly felt a little more painful as his muscles tightened into a practice contraction. It felt like a vice squeezing his lower abdomen, and the sensation migrated over into a tight knot in his lower back. “ _Ouch_. I’m hurting Harry,” Draco managed. “Braxton Hicks.”

“You’re okay. Just breathe,” Harry encouraged, rubbing soothing circles across Draco’s back. Together they counted the seconds in and out as they passed (“In-two-three-four-five-six, out-two-three-four-five-six”) and after a few repetitions Draco did indeed start to feel a little better. 

“And are we _sure_ that was just a practice one?” Harry asked after several minutes had passed. “There’s nothing else you’ve not told me?”

“Swear to Salazar. Nothing else. But I'm pretty tired though. Let me have a nap, and you have a shower. We’ll have our tea afterwards.” 

Harry left the room, and Draco shuffled into a more comfortable position on the bed. He looked at his bump, so round now that he couldn’t see his own feet, and considered his naughty daughter who now appeared to be sleeping soundly. “Was that your way of telling us you’re ready?” Draco asked her. “We’re very ready to meet you too, lovely. You’re quite the task to carry about now.”

Draco fell asleep then, his heart open and full of wonder at his life. He wasn’t even aware of Harry sliding into the bed beside him, caressing his skin and holding him close. As for the Carbonara, it was still perfect the following morning- preserved by magic!- and Harry and he ate it in their bed.

After all, Draco reasoned, decorum was surely allowed to disappear when you were as pregnant as he currently was. 

~@~

After his third contraction Draco decided he was no way near as brave as he’d hoped. He woke up Harry, with a tight grip to his arm while the wave of pain grew stronger and stronger as the seconds passed

“Emmeline is coming,” he whispered. “We’re having our baby. I’ve had a couple of contractions-”

“And you didn’t wake me? Bloody hell Draco! Okay. How long are they lasting?” Harry sat up in bed, gripping Draco’s shaking hands within his own, and watching his beloved through narrowed eyes. 

“Twenty seconds. And they really _hurt_ , Harry. Started in my belly and then moved into my back. Hurt worse than the practice ones, anyway.”

“Okay. Alright. So Emmeline’s decided to arrive then. That’s wonderful, Draco… It’s what we’ve been waiting for.” 

The fourth contraction happened nineteen minutes later, and Harry took control, counting them though it quietly and holding Draco firmly by the shoulders. They cast a _Tempus charm_ , timing the interval between each, and really there was very little either man could do except drink tea and wait nervously. Luckily Draco wasn’t nauseous, and his trembling slowly subsided as his brain got used to the knowledge that Emmeline was coming. 

The fifth contraction happened twenty-one minutes later, and the sixth contraction occurred while the first rays of dawn painted their bedroom in shadows of light and grey. 

“It’s morning,” Harry whispered, kissing Draco’s damp forehead. “And our daughters birthday. I know that it’s going to get worse before it gets better, but I know you can do this. I know that you can birth our baby. You’re stronger than you can ever know, love.”

Draco looked at Harry though bleary eyes, not believing his husband for a second. 

He’d only been in labour for three hours and it was difficult to believe how much worse the contractions were already getting. Already very tired, Draco had been trying to nap between contractions but that was made difficult because Emmeline had dropped downwards. She’d moved herself, pressing her body heavily against the entrance to his womb, and it was a consistent, heavy discomfort. 

“I think I need to move about,” Draco replied quietly. “Walk a little bit… I need to relieve some of this pressure. I think it might be time to contact Healer Prinn.”

“Alright.” Harry stood, and helped Draco to his feet. Harry left to make the fire-call and Draco slowly waddled around the room, feeling not unlike a bloody _erumpent_ as he moved slowly and carefully. Standing helped immensely with the pressure though, and he slowly rotated his hips in lazy circles and shifted his weight between his feet. They moved out to sit in the garden, where the July sun was already warm but not overwhelming. The open space outside was a balm to Draco’s frayed nerves and the small breeze was pleasant against his skin. 

“Healer Prinn is coming in an hour. About eleven o’clock,” Harry announced, letting Draco drape his weight against him and bury his sweaty blond head in his shoulder. “She said that walking was the best thing you could do… Gravity and all. That your body knows exactly what it wants even if your brain isn’t sure.”

And by the time eleven o’clock did arrive, Draco felt incredibly uncomfortable. 

His contractions were still quite distinct but there were only seven or eight minutes grace between them. Emmeline was heavy, and Draco felt like a giant bubble of pressure was pressing against his cervix. Every contraction felt like the dull burn of a hex being pushed against his insides. There wasn’t a single position that seemed to offer either comfort or relief. He seized Harry’s hand, biting his lip against the moan that threatened to escape. 

“You’re doing so well,” said Harry, which struck Draco as tremendously unhelpful. “Try to conserve your energy.”

“That’s a bit bloody difficult,” Draco muttered, “when you’re actively trying to push another person out of your own body.”

~@~

Healer Prinn arrived very soon after that. It was excellent timing because Draco felt his labour start to pick up its pace very soon after her arrival. 

She cast a diagnostic spell over Draco’s belly, and the sound of Emmeline’s heartbeat filled Draco’s ears, a swooshing sound that raced speedily around the room. Prinn counted the number of beats with a smile. “Everything seems absolutely fine with baby. She’s not stressed or struggling. Perfect heartbeat. What about you, Draco? How do you feel today is progressing?”

“Getting more painful,” Draco offered begrudgingly. “The contractions are getting sharper. Pushing downwards thought my back… Like they are trying to rip me open, or something equally bloody awful. I'm already exhausted and have no idea how I’m supposed to actually _do_ this.”

“But with every contraction the right muscles are getting looser, and you’re getting closer to meeting your baby,” Prinn countered, while Harry looked on. “This part is really difficult; you’re transitioning into active labour, so it’s going to get that bit more painful. I’m going to leave you two alone for a minute, and prep the bathtub. Shout if you need me.”

Harry took Draco’s hand and squeezed it. “You’re doing so well, love. I’m in awe of you. I couldn’t have done this. Grown a baby. Made a whole new life. I only wish I could take some of the pain away. She’s almost here. Our Emmeline.”

Draco gripped Harry’s hand in return, taking a deep breath as a pain pulsed through the base of his belly. As it slowly dissipated he crouched a little, rolling his hips. That seemed to help and he relaxed his posture as much as he could. “You’re right, Harry. Utterly right.” Draco sighed, and gave Harry a pallid, small smile. “I just need to focus on that. Just need to think about holding our daughter. It’s all so bloody _painful_.”

“I know love, I know. But it’s only one day out of your life, and then we’ll have Emmeline to share our lives forever.” Harry leaned over and smoothed back Draco’s hair lightly, stroking a fingertip down the side of his face. Draco screwed his eyes shut, and tried his hardest to heed his husband’s words but the pressure was intense and horrifying. There was very little let-up between contractions, and the pain of each seemed to get more profound with each one. 

He was vaguely aware of Harry whispering further encouragement in his ear but as another contraction started to build he was conscious of a gentle popping sensation and the warm trickle of fluid running down his thighs and soaking though his trousers. “My waters,” Draco groaned, anxiety seeping into his voice, “they’ve just… I think they just-”

“Okay, Draco. Don’t panic,” Harry said, clearly not heeding his own advice “It’s going to be fine.”

“Hush now,” instructed Prinn, brought into the room by Harry’s hurried shouts. Her voice was calm and authoritative. “No need to feel scared. That’s a good sign. Your labour should hopefully start to move a little more speedily now, and the pressure should lessen a little.” She vanished the worst of the spillage with a quick _Scourgify_ and told Harry to help Draco into the bath. “The warm water really will help you feel better.”

Draco felt powerless, and terribly frightened. His clothes were still damp and the contractions were faster and more intense almost immediately. “I can’t do it without your help,” he admitted to Harry, his voice sounding wretched and agonised even to his own ears. 

“That’s alright, love. Let me be finally be useful,” Harry said, taking Draco’s arms and helping him to his feet. They made slow progress to the bathroom but luckily Shell Cottage didn’t have stairs to navigate. Draco had another fierce contraction, and this one was was severe enough to force a low-pitched sound from deep in his throat. Draco knew rationally that this was another positive signal but the loss of control made his panic more feel acute. 

For the second time that day he felt the edges of his composure start to grow ragged. “ _Merlin_ ,” Draco hissed, making another growl and snatching hard enough at Harry’s forearm to hurt. “I didn’t think it’d be this bad. Feel like my bones are going to break-”

“No, me neither,” Harry confessed, stripping Draco out of his clothes and using magic to safely negotiate his entry into the bath, “but this is the final part. You’re so close to being done. Hopefully the water will help you move around a little easier.” Harry _Nox’d_ the lights dimmer which made the bathroom feel a little more private and peaceful, and spelled the bath to retain its heat. 

Draco’s contractions came both thick and fast after he entered the water, and there was hardly any respite between each one. Once one had finished the next began to grow, and Draco knew he was gasping and noisy, making all sorts of undignified sounds. He was vaguely aware of voices, and Harry’s cheery encouragement but even that hardly registered on his consciousness. All Draco could focus his mind on was Emmeline, and the urgency of her communications. She wanted desperately to be born, her magic rolling in a demanding wave all over his skin with every piercing pain that wretched through his body.

The need to bear down and push became an imperative, became a giant ball of pressure that every part of his mind and body was screaming at him to expel. Draco tried urgently to convey his needs to Harry, but all he could manage was a whimper. The ability to make sentences or even form words had absented itself utterly from his brain. 

Harry must have been a better legilimens than Draco had believed though, because he caught on quick enough. “You need to move? Turn around?” Harry asked, and Draco nodded quickly in reply. His husband helped Draco onto his hands and knees, the support of the warm water making the movement feel fluid and safe. He wrapped his sodden arms around Harry’s neck, clasping his beloved as the pressure grew and grew to an unbelievable crescendo. 

And then suddenly, _suddenly_ everything felt different. 

Draco let his body push, spreading his knees apart and bearing down as hard as he possibly could, giving himself up entirely to instinct, giving himself over completely to the peculiar motion of Emmeline moving down inside him. Draco’s body was guiding his brain, showing him precisely what he needed to do. Healer Prinn took hold of one of Draco’s shaking hands and guided it downwards through the water, pressing two fingers against his sensitive opening, and there Draco could really feel her. He could feel their baby, Emmeline, so slick and soft and so nearly ready to be born. 

“There’s your daughter,” Prinn smiled. “She’s almost here. Two or three good pushes and she’ll be with us. You’re so close! Push with the pain and then stop to breathe.”

Draco was only mistily aware of Harry beside him, crying tears of admiration, and pressing kisses of joy against his forehead, but he was glad for him nevertheless. Draco felt the curious sensation of his body crowning, felt the intense burning as Emmeline stretched him wide open. 

“I’ve got you, Draco,” Harry uttered, “Oh Merlin, she’s right there! I can actually _see_ her, love. You’re a bloody miracle. She’s really coming.” 

Even in the midst of his agonised pushes, Draco managed a small smile at Harry’s thrilled urging. His husband’s words must have worked some magic though, because he focused on his husband’s wonderment and gathered all the rough edges of his remaining energy together. Draco put everything he had into one, final push. He laboured so hard that his whole body shivered and Draco thought he saw stars at the edges of his vision. Draco felt Emmeline moving downwards, and he shifted his hips in readiness to accommodate her. 

Then, once more there was the burn, excruciating and white-hot and exhilarating. Everything felt like it was going to shatter, and Draco was certain, _certain_ he was going to be pulled into two pieces. But then, suddenly the burning was over before it even began. 

And one quick moment Emmeline was born, slipping easily into Harry’s readily waiting hands. 

Their Healer wrapped their squashed, purple and slippery baby in a towel and rubbed vigorously until she let out a mewling squall. Harry cut the cord with a careful severing charm, and Draco felt Healer Prinn pressing sterilising and protective spells onto their daughter. 

Prinn deposited Emmeline into his waiting arms, and for the first time Draco could actually _see_ her move. He could watch her wave her tiny arms, and witness how shocked and surprised she was at this very large world she’d found herself a part of. Emmeline had a handful of thick dark hair, and while their Healer had warned her baby hair would no doubt fall out- grow back a different colour- Draco didn’t believe that for a single moment. Normal rules simply didn’t apply to disreputable Potter hair. 

“Oh she’s lovely,” Harry breathed beside them, not even trying to hide his tears. “Our very own baby. Made with our love and just a little bit of magic.”

~@~

Draco was delivered of his placenta, freshly showered, and tucked into bed with his infant, all in under an hour. Healer Prinn gave him an examination, and pronounced him a veritable poster boy for natural birth. Draco pulled a face at that, but secretly he felt rather proud of the compliment. 

Emmeline passed all her tests with flying colours, and and was placed on Draco’s chest where she lay quietly, lulled to sleep by the beat of his familiar heart. She was quite serene, unaware of the fuss and commotion that her arrival had brought. She was quite the smallest baby Draco had ever laid eyes on but she had unmanned him utterly; her soft baby features opening his heart wide. _Maybe that was what being a parent was_ , he thought. _Accepting forever that your heart belonged to another person_.

Draco winced a little as he passed Emmeline over to Harry, his body still sore and aching. Healer Prinn had insisted Draco take a vial of painkilling potion before she had flooed away and it was driving him irrevocably towards sleep. He didn’t really want to leave Emmeline though. After nine months it felt very peculiar to have her outside of his body. 

“She’s so tiny,” Harry murmured, cradling Emmeline carefully. “Impossibly small toes, and those little miniature ears… And she’s _ours_. A whole future, a whole world wrapped up in seven little pounds.”

“Seven little pounds seems rather more when you have to push it out of your own body,” Draco replied with a yawn. “But she is quite beautiful. It’s wonderful to have her to ourselves for a few hours before Mother and hordes of Weasleys arrive tomorrow.” 

“Go on,” Harry urged. “Go to sleep. If we need you we can get you up. She’ll still be here when you wake up, promise. You’ve been pretty impressive today Malfoy. You deserve your rest.”

“Mmm. Alright,” Draco finally agreed, stroking a small finger down the side of his daughters downy head. “And Harry? Thank you. For Emmeline… And for everything. You’ve given me the life I never once dreamed I’d achieve.”

“Funny you should say that,” Harry said, adjusting his position and carefully leaning over to kiss Draco’s chapped lips, “because you’re the one who has given me a family. A _baby_. Now you do need to go to sleep. You’ll have a dozen visitors tomorrow and they’ll all be demanding the gory details. It’s our first day as a threesome tomorrow. The first day of the rest of our lives.”

Draco smiled at that, letting let his eyes fall shut. Despite his best efforts he was asleep within moments.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading XXXX


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